Are you not entertained?Are you not entertained?Is this not why you're here?

Uh, uh, huhTurn the music upTurn me downGuru, let's go get 'em againThis time it's for the money my niggaBrooklyn stand up

There's never been a nigga this good for this longThis hoodOr this pop is hotOr this strongWith so many different flowsThis ones for this songThe next one I'll switch upThis one will get bit upThese fucksTo lazy to make up shitThey crazyThey don't paint picturesThey just trace meYou know whatSoon they forget who they pluckedThey whole style fromAnd try to reverse the outcomeI'm like, cluckI'm not a biterI'm a writerFor myself and othersI say a big verse I'm only biggin' up my brotherBiggin' up my boroughI'm big enough to do itI'm that thoroughPlus I know my own flow is foolishSo the rings and things you sing aboutBring em outIt's hard to yell when the bar-rel's in your mouthI'm in, new sneakersDeuce seatersA few divasWhat more can I tell youLet me spell it for youW-I-Double L-I-ENobody truer than H-O-VAnd I'm back for moreNew York's ambassadorPrime Minister back to finish my business up

[Chorus]What more can I say?What more can I do?I give this all to youI know this much is trueMy life(Look at my life)(See what I see)What more can I say to youYou heard it all

You already know what I'm aboutFlying birds down southMoving wet off the stepPurple Rain in the droughtStunting on hoesBrushing off my shirtBut ain't nothing on my clothesExcept my chainMy nameYoung H-OPitch the yea faithfulEven if they patrol I make payrollBenz paid forFriends they rollPrivate jets down to Turks and CaheosChrys case loadsI don't give a shitNigga one life to live I can't let a day goByeWithout me being flyFresh to deathHead to toe until the day I restAnd I don't wear jerseys I'm thirty plusGive me a crisp pair of jeans nigga button upsS dots on my feetMake a cipher completeWhat more can I say Guru play the beat

We gonna let this ride into the hookI'ma snap my fingers on this oneWhat more can I say to you?Get my grown man onLet's go!(What more can I say?)

Now you know ass is willieWhen they got you in a magFor like half a billiAnd your ass ain't LillyWhiteThat mean that shit you write must be illyEither that or your flow is sillyIt's bothI don't mean to boastBut damn if I don't bragThem crackers gonna act like I ain't on they adsThe Martha StewartThat's far from JewishFar from a Harvard studentJust had the balls to do itAnd no I'm not through with itIn fact I'm just previewing itThis ain't the show I'm just EQ'in itOne, two and I won't stop abusing itTo groupie girls stop false accusing itBack to the musicThe Maybach roof is translucentNiggas got a problem HoustonWhat up be They can't shut up meShut down INot even P.E.I'ma rideGod forgive me for my brash deliveryBut I remember vividlyWhat these streets did to meSo picture meLetting these clowns nit pick at mePaint me like a pickinyI will literallyKiss Tee-Tee in the foreheadTell her please forgive meThen squeeze until your foreheadI'm not the one to score points offIn factI got a joint to knock your points offYoungHova the God nigga blast for meI'm at the Trump InternationalAsk for meI ain't never scaredI'm everywhereYou ain't never thereNigga why would I ever carePound for pound I'm the best to ever come around hereExcluding nobodyLook what I embodyThe soul of a hustler I really ran the streetI CEO's mineThat marketing plan was meAnd no I ain't get shot up a whole bunch of timesOr make up shit in a whole bunch of linesAnd I ain't animated, like say a, Busta RhymesBut the real shit you get when you bust down my linesAdd that to the fact I went plat a bunch of timesTimes that by my influenceOn pop cultureI supposed to be number one on everybody's listWe'll see what happens when I no longer existFuck this